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Authors: Mara Jacobs
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emergency? Is everything okay? Should you even be here this morning?”
Answering her questions in the same rapid-fire delivery, he said, “Yes. Sort of; at least it’s under control. And the entire Denver Broncos defensive line couldn’t have kept me from seeing you this morning.” Declan moved to the set, stepped onto the platform, and leaned against the desk as well. He shifted his weight to one hip and turned to face Marlee as she did the same. “The call last night was from my agent, who was still at the party. There was a fire at my house last night.”
“Declan, oh my God, why didn’t you say something sooner? Was anyone hurt? Is it burned to the ground? God, I feel like such a shrew trying to make you feel guilty for leaving last night.” She placed her hand on his arm, and her whole body turned into him.
He placed his hand over hers and began to stroke her long fingers. “You weren’t a shrew, you were disappointed. So was I. The fire was small, thank God, and nobody was hurt. Someone in the kitchen put a dishtowel too near one of those Bunsen burner things that the caterers used. The kitchen is a wreck, and there’s some smoke damage throughout the downstairs, but nothing on the second floor. The party had mostly cleared out by then. Apparently some of the guys were on a mission to find me and had left to go in search of all my usual haunts. The catering staff, my agent, a couple of players, and some, um, women were all that were left. By the time I got there, everything was under control. All I could do was call the insurance company, get some stuff for the next few days, and go to a hotel.”
“You went to a hotel alone after that ordeal?”
He didn’t think it wise to mention the offers he’d had for beds from the women still at the party. His agent was only in town for Declan’s last game, and staying at a hotel himself. Declan reached for Marlee’s hand. “Yes, I went to a hotel. Alone. It was four in the morning, my house was a wreck, I had nowhere to go for the next few nights, and the one woman I wanted was home alone in her bed without me.”
It had been an overwhelming day on all accounts. His last game as a professional athlete, a loss—which Declan never easily put from his mind in all the years he had played—meeting Marlee, and the fire. Yet it was thoughts of Marlee that kept him from falling asleep for several hours after he’d checked into a Brookline hotel. She was so different from most of the women he knew, and yet something about her seemed so comfortable, so familiar.
“I’m so sorry. What a horrible thing to have happen.”
“Thanks. Like I said, I’m just thankful nobody was hurt. The damage could have been a lot worse. Actually, if it had to happen, the timing of it was pretty good. I’m meeting this week with the insurance people, the contractors, and the cleaning crews, and then next week, while I’m in New York, they’ll be able to do most of the repairs. It should be all ready by the time I’m back.”
“But you won’t be living there much longer, will you? I mean, you’ll be moving to New York, right?”
Declan had thought that scenario through several times. It hinged, of course, on him being offered something from the networks. “I’ve decided to keep my house. I really like it, I’ve been in it nearly six years, and I’ve put a lot of work into it to get it just the way I want it. I’ll get an apartment in New York, or Connecticut if I get on with ESPN. I’ll be traveling a ton anyway, so I might as well have a home base here, right in the good ol’ Beantown. I can be at Logan in forty-five minutes on a good day, with all the lights in my favor.”
“I don’t blame you, it’s a great house. And though I only saw a small part of it, I really liked it. It reminded me of mine—on a much larger scale, of course. But kind of what I’d do with my dream house if I had an NFL salary.”
“Thanks. I’d like to say you’ll get to
Answering her questions in the same rapid-fire delivery, he said, “Yes. Sort of; at least it’s under control. And the entire Denver Broncos defensive line couldn’t have kept me from seeing you this morning.” Declan moved to the set, stepped onto the platform, and leaned against the desk as well. He shifted his weight to one hip and turned to face Marlee as she did the same. “The call last night was from my agent, who was still at the party. There was a fire at my house last night.”
“Declan, oh my God, why didn’t you say something sooner? Was anyone hurt? Is it burned to the ground? God, I feel like such a shrew trying to make you feel guilty for leaving last night.” She placed her hand on his arm, and her whole body turned into him.
He placed his hand over hers and began to stroke her long fingers. “You weren’t a shrew, you were disappointed. So was I. The fire was small, thank God, and nobody was hurt. Someone in the kitchen put a dishtowel too near one of those Bunsen burner things that the caterers used. The kitchen is a wreck, and there’s some smoke damage throughout the downstairs, but nothing on the second floor. The party had mostly cleared out by then. Apparently some of the guys were on a mission to find me and had left to go in search of all my usual haunts. The catering staff, my agent, a couple of players, and some, um, women were all that were left. By the time I got there, everything was under control. All I could do was call the insurance company, get some stuff for the next few days, and go to a hotel.”
“You went to a hotel alone after that ordeal?”
He didn’t think it wise to mention the offers he’d had for beds from the women still at the party. His agent was only in town for Declan’s last game, and staying at a hotel himself. Declan reached for Marlee’s hand. “Yes, I went to a hotel. Alone. It was four in the morning, my house was a wreck, I had nowhere to go for the next few nights, and the one woman I wanted was home alone in her bed without me.”
It had been an overwhelming day on all accounts. His last game as a professional athlete, a loss—which Declan never easily put from his mind in all the years he had played—meeting Marlee, and the fire. Yet it was thoughts of Marlee that kept him from falling asleep for several hours after he’d checked into a Brookline hotel. She was so different from most of the women he knew, and yet something about her seemed so comfortable, so familiar.
“I’m so sorry. What a horrible thing to have happen.”
“Thanks. Like I said, I’m just thankful nobody was hurt. The damage could have been a lot worse. Actually, if it had to happen, the timing of it was pretty good. I’m meeting this week with the insurance people, the contractors, and the cleaning crews, and then next week, while I’m in New York, they’ll be able to do most of the repairs. It should be all ready by the time I’m back.”
“But you won’t be living there much longer, will you? I mean, you’ll be moving to New York, right?”
Declan had thought that scenario through several times. It hinged, of course, on him being offered something from the networks. “I’ve decided to keep my house. I really like it, I’ve been in it nearly six years, and I’ve put a lot of work into it to get it just the way I want it. I’ll get an apartment in New York, or Connecticut if I get on with ESPN. I’ll be traveling a ton anyway, so I might as well have a home base here, right in the good ol’ Beantown. I can be at Logan in forty-five minutes on a good day, with all the lights in my favor.”
“I don’t blame you, it’s a great house. And though I only saw a small part of it, I really liked it. It reminded me of mine—on a much larger scale, of course. But kind of what I’d do with my dream house if I had an NFL salary.”
“Thanks. I’d like to say you’ll get to
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